Lake George
by Missyhissy3
Summary: From Coda to Unity.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Paramount clearly own all the characters

Copyright:Paramount, Kirsten Beyer's Voyager stories for inspiration for some sections.

* * *

**Lake George**

"Come on, Chakotay, I cheated death! That's worth a celebration, don't you think? Bottle of champagne, moonlight sail on Lake George - how does that sound?"

"Like something worth living for," he replied immediately, looking up at her absolutely radiant smile, as she stood on the raised area in her ready room.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her like this - this intent on enjoying herself - not on the ship anyway. There were some moments planet-side on New Earth when she'd been almost this frivolous, but it had somehow seemed to mean less, away from all her responsibility. Here, it meant everything to him to see her so seemingly care free. He couldn't miss the irony that it had taken near death to finally get her to allow herself a tiny window of life out here.

For a split second it had sounded like a date to him, and then he kicked himself immediately for being stupid enough to think that was what she was offering. _Idiot._

At that moment he didn't care anyway what the terms of engagement were - he was in, regardless. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do more than have her to himself right now. In whatever way she'd let him.

In fact if he'd thought she'd wanted to, he'd have asked her to do things like this with him months ago! He'd presumed she would've preferred to avoid spending time alone with him outside ship's business, in the moonlight... But he sure as hell wasn't going to point that out to her now. He'd never been so pleased to be wrong about something.

_I wonder if she means later_? He thought; given that she must know he was still on duty - supposed to be running the ship whilst she took it easy.

As if that was going to happen.

But, actually it seemed like it was. She was full of surprises today.

It seemed she really did mean right now. So they walked towards the door - and despite his attempts at gallantry, she playfully waved him ahead of her with another sweeping hand gesture and another beautiful smile. He could hear the lightness in her step and feel her still smiling behind him as they emerged.

They walked right through the bridge, past Tuvok's very slightly rising eyebrow, and headed for the turbo lift together. As he told the Vulcan the bridge was his til the end of the shift, Chakotay caught Paris's eye, despite himself. It was less of a smirk than he was expecting actually. He figured Paris had probably taken pity on him by now - there was no way Paris would have missed the rose he hadn't bothered to hide on the way in this time.

The day before on that godforsaken planet had scared the hell out of him, and he was almost past caring what the crew thought today. For her sake, he did usually try and keep that sort of display to her quarters - not up here - he knew she worried about how they were perceived. But yesterday was just too hard, and he knew it'd taken a toll on him. He had felt his usually well-schooled emotions bleeding out into the air around him. Before he'd met her, he never used to think of himself as a man who was prone to giving women token roses… Guess it takes the right woman to bring out the secret soppy romantic? He didn't like to think exactly what he'd do for her. Pretty much whatever she asked, he suspected some days...

If he was honest with himself, he knew he hadn't often really pursued a woman before. This was new territory. Perhaps if he'd been more practiced at taking the initiative, he might've found a way to be more open with her sooner on New Earth?

Most of the women he'd been intimately involved with had chosen him; he couldn't pretend he'd had much to do with it. Sveta, Seska...They might've gone about things in very different ways, but both those women had decided they wanted him, and had gone out and claimed him. From his perspective it seemed women were just better at arranging things so they got what they wanted.

His younger self had found that dealing with women on earth was much more complicated than he'd found things with the girls and women he'd grown up with. He'd struggled at first to make sense of all the different subtle signals and behaviours men were supposed to be able to interpret. There was absolutely nothing straightforward about any of it. He'd found it easier to let them do the pursuing and the deciding, rather than try to negotiate the minefield himself.

He'd never been hard up for female companionship, and the rest of it - so he'd never given it all much thought, until...

Living through the chaos his passive habits had allowed Seska to cause, when for a brief time he'd allowed her to stake even a small claim to his affections, and then having her deceive him so skilfully, had made him swear to himself that he would try his damnedest to do things differently next time.

And yet…here he was again. A woman calling the damn shots.

But he knew it wasn't the same. He wasn't prepared to accept _anything_ about it was the same.

He promised himself that the minute he was free to pursue his heart again, he'd pursue Kathryn. Taking his heart in his own hands and offering all of it to her.

The night before, after she had been released from sickbay, he'd had to practically tie himself to the chair in his quarters and lock his door, to stop himself going back to check on her again. Even after he'd been in twice already and made sure she had everything she needed.

As if.

They both knew she didn't have everything she needed.

He came that close to forgetting his part in this blasted charade, and climbing into the damn bed with her the second time, if only just to hold her, to listen to her breathing as she fell asleep.

He'd never come that close to losing her before, and he had been terrified. For what had seemed like hours, she had been slowly dying in his arms.

And this, spending this evening with her now, seemed to him to be exactly what the Doctor ordered. Part of him was still surprised that she was actually going to follow advice and take it easy for a few hours. He was half expecting her to look up and hesitate - then say something like "Actually, Chakotay, do you mind if we do this another time?" Or B'Elanna would comm her to say she was needed for something, or another crewmember would call to give her an update she'd doubtlessly already requested on some aspect of ship's business - and that would be enough to derail this wonderfully rare plan.

But no.

They made it back to quarters on deck 3 - her suggestion that they change out of uniform, not his - and no one had disturbed either of them. He wondered if the Vulcan had a hand in that? You could never tell with Tuvok.

She'd reserved a holodeck for the next four hours whilst they travelled in the turbo lift, and she'd told him to call past for her in 5 minutes.

He quickly threw on some casual clothes and even took a quick look in the mirror. Not sure why he had done that really - and kind of wished he hadn't when he found it hard to look himself in the eye. He was suddenly unsure of his own intentions here. Less sure than usual that he trusted himself to stay within the lines she'd drawn for them.

But he didn't want to let her down now. Not when inside, part of her must still be reeling from the after shocks of the whole nightmarish experience, despite her outward composure. He couldn't suddenly pretend he didn't know what she wanted from him and what she didn't want. Not just because she had scared him witless.

Splashing cold water on his face helped. Released him a little from the grips of an imagination that had already started to paint pictures of them, limbs entwined, moving together in the bottom of the boat.

_It's just a boat trip. Get a grip, idiot._

She needed him now, to ground her; to reassure her she was back where she was safe. Not to scare the hell out of her by letting go of everything he'd been so faithfully holding in for her sake ever since they had rejoined the ship. He wouldn't do that to her. She deserved better; he could be better.

He took a deep breath and walked out of his quarters to call for her.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on, Chakotay, I cheated death! That's worth a celebration, don't you think? Bottle of champagne, moonlight sail on Lake George - how does that sound?"

She gestured to him, trying to paint the scene she was imagining so he could see them there too. His eyes danced, he was there with her already, she could feel it.

"Like something worth living for."

And that was all the encouragement she needed. She had suddenly felt desperate to get away from this room, the bridge, ship's business, and just be somewhere where she could try and remember something from the real life she had had before this interminable mission, and last night's terrifying ordeal.

Lake George would do that, even if it was just the holodeck.

And she wanted to be with him.

Yesterday could've been her last and she was damned if she was going to sit here all day, alone in this airless room, doing busy work, trying and failing not to think about it. This day was the first day of the rest of a life she'd fought so ferociously to keep. She wasn't about to carry on wasting it like this. Talking to him for just a few minutes had been enough to spur her to do something.

They crossed the bridge and headed straight to their deck to change.

She had 5 minutes to get ready. First thing she'd done was replicate the champagne. A good one of course. She chose a green dress that she'd never worn on Voyager. Never felt like it before. She had a moment of uncertainty when she caught her reflection in the mirror as she hurried to brush out her hair. _"Did I just ask my First Officer on a date?"_ she heard her mind offer. But she quickly dismissed the voice and continued to get ready. She platted her hair into a simple braid and applied some fresh lipstick.

She felt like she'd just woken up somehow, even though it must have been early evening by then.

Just as she walked out of the bathroom her chime sounded and she went swiftly to the door.

She was struck again by how different he always looked out of uniform somehow. This time it was his smile that seemed wider, his skin darker, against the cream casual shirt. She felt a wave of affection for him wash over her as he told her she looked stunning and offered her his arm.


	3. Chapter 3

That was some dress. Damn sure he'd remember it if she'd ever worn that before. Some thin silky fabric that clung to her body; a body many women must envy. Her bare arms were toned and her calf muscles defined. He knew she kept herself in shape, and worked through some pretty tough self defense programs. Went with the territory of being Captain.

The sheen of her auburn hair glowed against the vivid green of the dress. She looked stunning, beautiful. She was a beautiful woman; he'd thought that for a long time, but tonight she looked different... somehow. Exactly how, he couldn't say. It was as if she'd shed more than just the thick skin of her uniform tonight. Almost as if she'd woken up out of some sort of hibernation, standing there, very much alive, in vivid spring green. He loved seeing her out of uniform. Would love even more to see her out of that dress too…. _Damn it, man_. He was in danger of losing it again. _Reign it in, you fool._

This wouldn't do, he knew he needed to keep his side of their unspoken agreement.

Just a few weeks previously in the Hawaiian resort Paris had programmed into the holodeck for the crew to unwind in, Chakotay had managed to keep his hands off her, well, mostly. She'd spent the entire evening at his side, wearing a colourful strapless dress. He knew he hadn't been able to stop his gaze lingering just a little too long as he'd taken in the way the bodice had fitted her slender figure perfectly. But then what did she expect? It wasn't like she'd worn anything like that ever before then, was it? There were some things it was just impossible not to notice, he'd done his best, but knew it probably hadn't been enough. Then again, he knew he hadn't been the only one there to stare. When they'd arrived, Paris had given her an openly appraising look that had made Chakotay bristle. At least the others had had the good grace to appreciate the difference in her appearance with some subtlety.

Late in the evening, she'd been cold, when they'd relaxed with some of the others on the beach to watch the sunset, and he hadn't hesitated to take the opportunity her shivers had presented to put his arm around her and pull her close, ostensibly to warm her up. It'd felt like the most natural thing in the world to him to feel her there against him. Exactly where she ought to be.

That evening he'd felt like he'd belonged somewhere, for the first time in such long time. And it'd felt so damn good - there with her.

As they'd sat there on the beach watching the sunset, he had absentmindedly caressed her arm with his fingers for a few minutes, as his mind had wandered into unfamiliar territory.

He'd actually started to think about the future.

A future where they got home somehow and where there could be the chance for some new sort of life for him. Perhaps her unswerving determination and her pathological optimism were infecting him too now?

He'd found himself wondering what it could mean for him and for his crew if the situation with the Cardassians had changed significantly by the time they made it back? Maybe his life might be his again? It'd been so long since he'd thought of himself as someone with choices or with a future that consisted of anything other than conflict and loss. Being there with Kathryn and the others like that, had reminded him of the life he'd had before the attack on his home world had brought everything crashing down around him.

She hadn't shrunk back from him when he'd pulled her close to warm her up. She'd seemed comfortable with it. He felt sure he'd have noticed if she hadn't been. He'd savoured having her there against him. They'd been amongst the very last to leave and as she'd said goodnight to him at the holodeck exit, he'd thought she had seemed slightly wistful somehow. And he'd let himself hope, perhaps foolishly, that she hadn't wanted the evening to end either. That she too had felt something of the deep rooted contentment he'd felt beside her for those few hours.

And now this - it was more than he'd hoped for recently.

If they could continue to share evenings like these, then accepting the constraints between them that she needed, so that she was able to feel she was doing her duty to the ship, would be more bearable than he'd imagined it was going to be. Those first goddamn awful few days back on the ship after New Earth had drained his reserves to an all time low, so the opportunity tonight to spend another evening close to her, and this time alone, felt like a gift to him.

It meant something about how she felt too, surely? Surely it wasn't all just a reaction to the near death experience?

Perhaps she was finally starting to accept that she had the right to want some sort of life outside her duty shifts? And that he would be a regular feature in it?

He understood she had strong reservations now they were back on Voyager about allowing free reign to the potential that they both knew existed between them. Didn't feel those reservations with anything like such strength himself, and if she'd wanted to let things continue to unfold between them, frankly he'd have been overjoyed. But he couldn't really claim he hadn't understood her obvious reticence to change the nature of their friendship. It hadn't come as a surprise. He knew her well enough to expect it.

She had to know by now how he felt about her – he was sure of that. But he was still uncertain as to what he could really mean to her.

She cared about him deeply – that was much was clear – but she was still engaged to a man she was in love with when they'd left the Alpha Quadrant. He didn't presume he could have usurped Mark's place in her heart so easily, so quickly. She was as loyal as he was – she wasn't the sort of woman to get involved with someone she didn't love deeply. She was _engaged_ to the damn man, not dating, he'd had to remind himself more than once.

Still, if she was happy spending evenings with him as her best friend, escort, companion, whatever the hell she wanted to call it, openly giving him those roles in her off-duty life in front of the crew, that could be enough for now.

He couldn't bear the idea that he would ever be a source of pain to her; her life was hard enough out here as it was, without him messing with her head or her heart.

So he honestly thought he could deal with the limits, if they could always have this new closeness in their lives. His soul had ached for her presence, alone in his quarters their first night back on the ship. Not to mention how it'd screamed out last night as she lay in an ashen heap in his arms, dying.

This evening together would go a long way to helping breathe some life back into it.


	4. Chapter 4

Tuvok sat in the centre of the bridge.

He checked the internal sensors again.

4 hours, 23 minutes.

He had checked the programme they had selected when they had left the bridge.

This lake must be of considerable size, requiring several hours to navigate.

His observation of the Captain's uncharacteristically animated demeanour as she had transversed the bridge earlier with the Commander preceding her, provided a basis for an alternative hypothesis.

He checked sensors again.

The privacy lock had not been engaged.

His duty to monitor this uncharacteristic behaviour following the alien possession and any repercussions it could have for ship's security justified the minimal intrusion into their privacy.

He deduced that the shared trauma his commanding officers had undergone the previous evening was responsible for inspiring the noticeable increase in the level of familiarity with which they usually conducted themselves around one another whilst on duty.

Their behaviour in the shuttle had been uncharacteristically intimate, but he had assumed it was simply the immediate after effects of the shock. That the changes should be still in evidence the following day had not been in line with his expectations.

Earlier that evening the Commander had suddenly handed command of the bridge over to him without warning, disappeared into the turbo lift and returned several minutes later carrying a single flowering rose stem which he had then taken directly into the Ready Room.

Tuvok was aware of the significance humans attributed to specific flowers.

The events of the past twenty-four hours caused him to revisit his analysis of the command team's seemingly successful reintegration into their roles on board, after the isolated weeks they'd spent together on the planet in Videan space several months ago.

On their return to the ship, Tuvok had been satisfied initially to witness the energetic dedication to duty displayed by both officers, despite weeks spent functioning presumably outside of the command structure planetside.

In the first meeting he had had with Captain Janeway on her return, in which she had debriefed him regarding all shipboard developments during her absence, Tuvok had initiated the one and only conversation he had ever conducted with her on the subject of the possibility of an intimate relationship between herself and Commander Chakotay.

Aware of the length of time his commanding officers had been alone together outside of the command structure, Tuvok had considered that there was a possibility they would have pair-bonded during this time. Consequently, en route to their rescue with the medicine the Doctor believed would treat their condition, he had revisited Starfleet protocols regarding the formation of intimate relationships amongst senior staff serving on the same vessel.

He had found few protocols applicable to their unique situation and had resolved to ask the Captain directly about the matter. If their relationship had evolved, he was confident at that time that the Captain would develop strategies to ensure it did not interfere with their primary responsibilities to the ship. So, as soon as she concluded the debriefing, he had asked her if there were any changes in the nature of her relationship with the Commander that he needed to be made aware of.

She had flushed and laughed nervously, and assured him that there were no such changes. She had continued briefly, saying that as Captain she was bound by protocol to refrain from entering into an intimate relationship with a member of her crew. She further remarked that she needed to have 100% of her energy and attention focused on their primary goal. Getting the crew home. And then she had immediately directed the conversation towards a different topic.

Tuvok had considered this to be an acceptable response and had not perceived a need to initiate further discussion as to the applicability of such protocols to their situation. Particularly since she was clearly experiencing discomfort at having to air such a topic with him at all.

He had concluded that the Captain must be in agreement with the protocol document. It asserted that the formation of fully-fledged pair bonds between commanding officers ran the risk of impairing their objectivity, efficacy and efficiency in the performance of their duties. For these reasons, the formation of such relationships should be discouraged.

Tuvok considered whether this was a valid concern in relation to his commanding officers.

Whilst he rarely shared the Commander's all-too-human perspectives or opinions concerning situations they had encountered these three years, he had found the Commander's performance as First Officer to be adequate. He had also noted that the Captain valued the Commander's judgment, support and his company, and that his presence could increase her sense of well-being. Their respect and affection for each other were evident even to him. Were they not in a command structure, he would have considered them to be a well-matched couple for forming a pair bond.

It was unfortunate their circumstances and her determination to adhere to protocol prohibited such a mating. He did not believe the Commander would be so insistent that the guidelines be lived out to the letter.

His superior auditory capacity had resulted in his overhearing countless conversations between them over the years as they sat in their designated command chairs on the bridge. He had paid little attention to such interactions but had nevertheless registered the gradually increasing intimacy of these exchanges since their return to the ship in recent months.

However, when it came to combining a command role with an emotional attachment of even greater intimacy, Tuvok could see that the objections raised in the Starfleet protocol document might pertain. He did not believe the Commander would succeed in managing such conflicting demands effectively. He based his conclusions on observation of the tumultuous and volatile liaison the Commander had had with Ensign Seska.

He had been intimate with Ensign Seska for only a short time and had not appeared to be particularly emotionally attached to her. If a bond of little significance could have such a negative effect on his judgment, then the possible impairment of his judgment resulting from his far more significant attachment to the Captain might have disastrous consequences for the crew and the ship. Tuvok already believed the Commander to be over protective of the Captain and prone to excessive risk taking if her safety was ever in the balance.

He did not feel such concerns were equally applicable to the Captain. She had demonstrated an extraordinary capacity for behaving with almost Vulcan-like stoicism on occasion, suppressing her personal inclinations in a manner which he found to be rare amongst humans and which had earnt her his respect very early on in their working relationship. It was probable that she would be able to successfully combine an attachment with her command role. Her devotion to duty was unswerving and unquestionable. Despite her own misgivings, he believed she would be capable of maintaining her professional objectivity. The Commander's prominent role in away missions had already placed him in numerous life-threatening situations to date, and the Captain had always behaved with consummate professionalism on these occasions.

He was well aware that humans had a need to express and experience emotional connections in order to retain their general sense of well-being, so he had concluded that the Captain must still draw considerable solace from memories of the familial and romantic attachments left in the Alpha Quadrant, as he himself did. Other than the few working friendships she had developed with crewmembers such as himself, the Commander, Kes and Neelix, he was not aware that she had any other connections of an emotional or even of a social nature with members of the crew.

There had been occasions in recent months when Tuvok's observations of the Commander's behaviour and decision-making processes had indicated a substantial level of tension between the forces of emotional attachment the Commander had developed for his Captain, and his awareness of the need for a certain level of professional objectivity.

When the Captain had undergone the rituals prescribed by the keepers of the shrine Kes had unintentionally disturbed, the Commander had neglected his duties on the bridge and secluded himself in sickbay, keeping constant vigil, monitoring readings of the Captain's bio signs. This activity had been inappropriate. It represented an unnecessary duplication of the physician's duties and an inefficient use of the Commander's expertise.

The Commander had not shared his opinion on the matter.

The previous evening when they had arrived in a shuttle to begin treating the Captain's injuries, Tuvok and the Doctor had found the Commander to be in a state of obvious emotional distress.

The Commander's behaviour had remained within the parameters of professionalism throughout the part of the ordeal on the planet's surface that Tuvok had witnessed, but the strain this had put the Commander under had been evident. During the return shuttle ride, Tuvok had observed that the professional distance he had come to expect his superior officers to maintain in the presence of other crewmembers had all but vanished completely.

Given the severity of the head injury the Captain had sustained and the degree of difficulty the doctor had encountered stabilizing it, Tuvok had expected the doctor to insist she lie down in the rear section of the shuttle for the duration of the trip. He had found it illogical that the physician had allowed the Commander to continue supporting her once they were inside. For his part, the Doctor had pointedly ignored Tuvok's questioningly raised eyebrow as both men had watched the Commander gently settle the Captain into the seat beside him.

Tuvok had felt it incumbent upon himself to suggest to her that she lie down. She had replied with her habitual dismissal of concern for her well-being, and had allowed the Commander to maintain contact with her.

The Commander had seemed oblivious to the fact that his arm was around the Captain's shoulders and he was holding her hand in his throughout the duration of the trip. As he had moved past them to take his seat at the helm, Tuvok had seen the Commander graze the Captain's temple with his lips in a gesture of unambiguous intimacy.

Despite the fact they were seated behind him, a few minutes into the flight Tuvok's superior auditory capabilities meant that he had overheard the Commander whisper,

'Don't ever do that to me again, Kathryn.'

Even with his superior hearing he had not been able to make out her hushed response.

Whilst the Vulcan had come to trust the First Officer's judgment in the majority of matters of ship's business, he did not trust his judgment when it came to his management of his feelings for the Captain.

Tuvok could see evidence to support the assertion that in the wake of the Captain's near death experience, the Commander was in danger of losing some, if not all, of the control he habitually exercised over the demands of his heart.

If a Vulcan and a self-absorbed hologram had been able to perceive the strength of the emotions the Commander had been unconsciously exuding, then Tuvok reasoned that they must have been all too apparent to the human crewmembers they had encountered on their return to the ship.

In turn, on her exit from the Ready Room earlier, he had seen evidence that the Captain's behaviour had also been affected. The Commander was clearly in neglect of his duties in inviting the Captain to the holodeck well in advance of the end of his shift. It was out of character for the Captain to condone, let alone take part in, such behaviour.

He resolved to continue monitoring their movements.


	5. Chapter 5

They lay side by side in the bottom of the little boat, shoulders and upper arms touching, looking up at the holographic night sky. The bottle was empty and so were their glasses.

The hours had passed too quickly she thought. Couldn't believe it was past 01.00 already.

She'd told him stories of coming to this place on earth. He'd listened and laughed with her freely when she'd vividly described some of her family's exploits there.

She wanted to tell him she'd take him there when they got back, but the words stuck in her throat. She could imagine being there with him very easily. But she couldn't fit Mark into this picture at all. There was only space for one man whose presence in her life resonated like both Mark and Chakotay's did. She had to be honest with herself about this.

What was unsettling now, was that she couldn't honestly say anymore, that her fiancé was the one she saw, or more accurately felt, at her side, in day dreams that put her back on earth rediscovering wonderful places like this.

She felt alive again now. Next to this man, who grew more dear to her as the days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into _years_ for God's sake! The scenarios that alien had projected for her, constructed from her own mind, had forced her to acknowledge the ambiguities of her feelings now, and the different directions in which she felt her heart being pulled.

She knew how she thought her death would affect him. She'd seen it. He'd broken down, but he'd put himself back together and carried on. Carried on leading their crew home. She'd always believed that he would honour her like that.

He was no stranger to dealing with loss. He wouldn't let it cripple him. He was a man of considerable resourcefulness and enormous strength.

Just how she'd feel if the situation were reversed and he'd lain dying in her arms, she didn't know. Couldn't think about that now.

They'd talked a little about how she was feeling since the shuttle crash, but he hadn't pushed her and neither of them had wanted to dwell for long on their shared nightmare.

Earlier in the evening, when they'd been sitting up talking and sharing the champagne, in her peripheral vision she'd been aware of him watching her more than once. When she'd turned and caught his dark eyes one time, she'd been unprepared for the depth of feelings there.

The moment had felt suddenly electric and time had stalled somehow. It felt for a heart beat like he was about to close the small distance between them and kiss her. But he didn't. When she realised he wasn't going to, even if the intention and the desire to do so had been there in the look she'd caught just moments before, she tried to suppress her awareness of a shadow of regret deep inside her somewhere.

He was following the rules she herself had laid down for him, for God's sake! What more did she want from him? She felt uncomfortable even thinking about that question.

Later, as they walked back from the shore of the lake to the holodeck exit, instead of taking his arm as before, she took his hand and entwined her fingers in his. It was a far more intimate gesture and she knew it. Right now she didn't care. That connection she knew they still had, she needed to feel it now. It made her sure she was really still alive. Feel sure that alien hadn't succeeded in killing off any parts of her heart.

His warm, familiar hand felt so good, and she suddenly felt so grateful for so much.

At the exit she had then taken his arm instead as they moved through Voyager's empty corridors together.

When they said goodnight at the door to her quarters, he'd reached up and gently traced his fingers across the regenerated skin on her forehead where the deep red gash had been, in a gesture that made her feel so cherished that she'd struggled to hold herself together.

It'd been a wonderful evening, and she felt sure for the first time since the crash, that she would soon find her way back to the self she knew she needed to inhabit in order to do what was required of her here.

He would help her.


	6. Chapter 6

Tuvok looked at the sensor screen again.

He continued to monitor their bio-signatures and observed as they left the holodeck and moved through the ship together to deck three. The progress of both bio-signatures halted at the Captain's quarters.

After a further 3.34 minutes the Captain's bio-signature entered her quarters and the Commander's moved towards his own.

Tuvok judged this outcome to be satisfactory.

He reflected on how he could be of assistance to the Captain in the immediate future, in ensuring that the status quo was maintained with regard to her relationship with her First Officer.

He concluded that it would be appropriate for him to offer her an hour of guided Vulcan meditation in the next day or so, before her return to duty. She might now be vulnerable to suggestions that she would have otherwise found to be inadvisable. The shared traumatic experience had the potential to create a deeper bond between his commanding officers, which might make it more difficult for her to ignore any appeals the Commander might now choose to make. She would likely need assistance to regain her usual sense of well-being. She would need help from her friends. Preferably friends other than the Commander.

Tuvok had long considered himself her friend.

He could assist her indirectly in this endeavour in other ways. He could request that his bridge shifts be altered slightly, ostensibly to allow him time to supervise the implementation of the new security measures that were indeed close to completion. This would require the Commander to cover the bridge at certain times when he was currently on the same duty cycle as the Captain. If their shifts coincided less often it would assist her in re-establishing an appropriate distance between them.

Perhaps a few carefully selected words from him would remind her of her former resolve to resist any spontaneous changes in her relationship with the Commander? Changes that the Commander's loosening grip on his emotions might cause him to propose. She had long since told Tuvok that she valued his counsel; that he provided her with clarity in situations where her judgment had been impaired. Perhaps this was one such occasion?

He would of course proceed with caution. He did not intend to overstep the bounds of their friendship. He resolved to speak to her in the morning. It was imperative he do so before the opportunity should arise for her to spend more of her off duty recovery time alone in the company of her First Officer. She would find it hard to forgive herself, were she to acquiesce on impulse to taking any actions that she might later regret.

It was imperative that she resist the impulse to do anything that might add to the weighty, self-imposed burdens of guilt she already carried.

He would help her.


	7. Chapter 7

Third and final day on beta shift.

Was that really all it had been, three days? Seemed like about three weeks.

He was sitting in the mess hall, having dinner alone; Kathryn, B'Elanna, Tom and Harry were all on alpha shift. Ayala was still on the night shift for one more night.

He was quite capable of seeking out others to sit with and talk to. He'd done that for the last two days, but this evening he was tired and didn't want to have to make an effort. He'd chosen the stew. It was very hot. Really _very_ hot, looked vaguely radioactive. It'd take a while to be cool enough to eat. He sat back in his seat and looked out of the viewport, and his mind drifted back to the beginning of the week.

The morning after they'd spent that evening on the holodeck, he'd commed her to suggest brunch. Knew she'd need to sleep in.

"_Sorry Chakotay, pancakes do sound seriously tempting, but Tuvok's already persuaded me to take a Vulcan breakfast with him this morning, I'm on my way to his quarters now."_

Then later that morning...

The shift changes Tuvok requested weren't extensive; pretty straightforward actually; since there just weren't too many ways you could reconfigure it. Easiest way was for him to do a straight swap with Tuvok himself, for the part of the week when Tuvok usually covered beta shift. Just for a couple of days or so. That was the most logical solution. Would be, wouldn't it…

He had wondered whether Kathryn would get anything out of the meditation Tuvok had mentioned. He'd never heard of that one. He'd wondered what a Vulcan could even mean by 'formative significant stabilisers'? He'd thought they stabilised themselves? He clearly needed to brush up on his Vulcan cultural and spiritual knowledge.

Later that same day, he'd intended to comm her and suggest they meet for lunch or dinner, but it was clear now she'd be busy with her meditation session. Tuvok had also mentioned that she was going to for a walk later in airponics with Kes.

Odd really, Tuvok didn't often volunteer information. On any topic, let alone other people's social arrangements. Perhaps he was lightening up? All this time spent confined with humans was finally rubbing off on him? Mmm... If not that, then perhaps he was making an effort to detail her movements as a way to provide reassurance that she was recuperating well and there was nothing to worry about? He knew even Tuvok couldn't have missed how shaken he'd been by what had happened to her. Perhaps it was time he tried harder to give the Vulcan some credit? However condescending and arrogant he could be, there was no question as to his devotion to Kathryn. Perhaps this was his way of acknowledging he'd been worried about her too - in as much as he was capable of worry...

He'd briefly considered still contacting her to suggest dinner, but he knew she'd probably want to have some time to herself before going back on duty the next day. When he'd got back to deck three after dinner in the mess hall, he'd rung her chime just to check in and say 'hi' but she hadn't answered. Probably in the bath. He'd commed her later and they'd had a brief comm chat before she turned in; she'd said she was fine and ready to go back to work.

Not actually having seen her all that day just hadn't felt right. He had wanted to build on the developing closeness of the previous evening, consolidate it. Follow up on some of the things they'd talked about. He'd expected some continuity. He'd expected she would've felt the same.

Apparently she didn't.

The following day, their paths had barely crossed, she'd returned to duty and he was swapping shift cycle. She was already asleep when he'd finally come off duty. On the third day he'd gone to find her to share a coffee at least, but during the hours when they could've found a window together, she'd been in a meeting and then later he'd been involved in managing a personnel issue that had taken time and energy to resolve. The day after that B'Elanna had made a point of fixing a new time to play hoverball with him, saying he'd have to do more than change his shifts to avoid getting a thrashing, so he'd had no opportunity to seek Kathryn out that day either.

On the night she'd invited him to the holodeck, as he'd gone to collect her from her quarters, he'd convinced himself that as long as they could have the new-found closeness that seemed to be developing between them, then he could accept the constraints of their unspoken agreement.

By the end of the evening, he'd found that to be less true.

That evening had made him want more. She'd seemed different, more open, warmer, closer in every way, so it'd been impossible not to think about _all_ they could be to each other – without constraints of any kind. By the end of the evening he'd found himself quite far from acceptance actually.

On more than one occasion that night he'd come so close to forgetting his resolve to stay within the lines she'd drawn for them. Almost without realising it, he'd been about to lean in and kiss her at one point, before his brain had caught up with where his his heart had been leading him. It had just seemed like a natural progression, would've felt right. It'd taken all the self-restraint he had not to just follow his heart anyway in that moment.

He wasn't used to interrogating his heart about what it wanted. It hadn't been an option for years so it didn't come easy. He could always have detailed immediately the demands of the Maquis, the demands of the leaders of his home colony, or his demands on behalf of his crew. But as for the demands of his heart? He honestly hadn't thought about it in years until those weeks on that planet with her a few months ago. The decimation of his home colony and the harsh life of conflict he'd fallen into in the aftermath of that destruction had caused him to disconnect completely from the part of himself that had once entertained his personal aspirations and ambitions for the future.

This unlikely exile in the furthest corner of the galaxy had actually brought him some unexpected gifts. Liberty. A new sense of community. Peace, some of the time at least. A new mission. A chance to reclaim part of the identity he'd been forced to give up by the turn of events back home. And her. The strength of feeling she could inspire in him had started to reconnect him to parts of a more profound but long-neglected sense of self. That part with the aspirations and ambitions for the future.

It'd felt so damn good, so right, to have her beside him that night. He couldn't shake the feeling that the closeness they'd begun to share was exactly what both of them really needed. They were both old and wise enough to know when something was real. This was no impulsive infatuation.

When he'd got back to his quarters late that night, he'd lain flat on his back on his bed still fully clothed. He'd still been able to feel her slender hand in his.

He'd found himself asking the spirits for more.

He realized he knew what he wanted – he'd begun to think about the future recently, and if he looked into his heart, the 'more' he was asking the spirits for was clear. If he was brave enough to own all his desires, then he would have to accept that he wanted more than just the possibility of a life for himself and his crew back in the Alpha quadrant. What he really wanted was all that, _and_ a future with her.

Then there'd been four days of nothing.

...

...

So here he was, four days later with minimal contact and any certainty he'd felt about the closeness he'd thought she'd been encouraging fast starting to dissipate. He remembered what his father used to say about the wisdom of anyone who asked the spirits for more than they had been given.

Right now he would have been grateful just to have the promise of that new closeness back. Forget the 'more'. But even that seemed to have evaporated.

She'd made no attempt at all to spend any time with him.

Breakfast with Tuvok, walks with Kes, unavailable a couple of times after that. He started to wonder if she was actually _avoiding_ him? He'd barely seen her other than for a brief professional handover on the bridge at the end of her first shift back. She'd said she was fine, but she had seemed tired and still a little off-balance somehow. Not surprising; it takes time to digest and make sense of that sort of experience. But it seemed that they were very much back to being Captain and Commander, just as before. Any other dimension to their interactions he'd perceived recently seemed to have been a mirage.

Perhaps she felt uncomfortable about that night? Perhaps on reflection she'd decided it'd been ill advised to spend so long with him, alone, on what _had_ actually felt like a date. To him at least.

On this, his third day on beta shift, he'd gone into her Ready Room to leave a padd, and couldn't help but notice that the photo of her fiancé seemed to have migrated right back to the centre of the desk.

He'd been hoping the damn thing might migrate into a drawer some time soon.

He forced himself back to the present and looked down at the plate of food. Didn't look too bad. Still looked very hot. It was indeed still too hot to eat - still bubbling actually. He reviewed a padd, then found that his thoughts drifted back to the photo again.

That man with his perfect looking, stable, planetside life. Framed there with her dog. Dog probably adored him.

Probably lived in some picture-perfect cottage with climbing roses trailing over the gate. His home was probably a tastefully subtle fusion of the traditional and the modern. Just like Kathryn. The man was a respected academic, prominent in his field. Probably belonged to a high profile family, just like Kathryn. His distinguished grey hair added to the sense of gravitas and confidence that surrounded him. He clearly didn't feel the need to take supplements now, did he?

Suppose it was possible this man wouldn't have waited for her, would've moved on..he considered this, but felt unconvinced. Kathryn was the sort of woman a man would wait for. She wouldn't be easy to forget or replace. Somehow he felt sure that her fiancé wouldn't have given her up for dead yet, even though it'd been three years.

So – let's get this straight then; what was it _exactly_ that he had been hoping for these last few days?

Hoping that they could find a way to combine their command of the ship with a personal life here together…and then in the event of them making it back one day to Earth, hoping that she would decide to trade all that she had with this man for the possibility of some sort of life with him? Was that really it?

What sort of life was it likely to be anyway?

At worst, arrest and incarceration. Great. Hard to see how he could sell that one to her…Visitors' rights versus life with Mr Stylishly Silver-haired Academic Genius in the cottage idyll?

At best, the chance to make a new start, if the situation had changed significantly enough. And, in that best-case scenario, he could offer her what exactly? Life as the partner of an ex-freedom fighter or ex-Starfleet traitor and ex-terrorist, depending on your perspective?

No, actually. It gets worse.

If he was honest, he couldn't even guarantee the 'ex' part.

It'd depend on what Starfleet had allowed the Cardassians to do these past three years. Even if the Maquis' conflict with Starfleet had come to an end for good reasons, he couldn't swear he would definitely want to re-join the Starfleet fold.

Just thinking about what the situation might be now with the Cardassians had made him involuntarily clench his jaw. A tension began creeping insidiously back through his body. A tension that had once become so familiar he'd stopped registering it. Now that it was no longer his constant companion, he noticed its intrusion.

He flexed his neck to one side and made a conscious effort to relax.

Even if the conflict had been resolved, Starfleet brass would never trust someone like him again. He felt that in his bones. Not for years. He'd have to prove himself all over again. He wasn't even sure he wanted to do that.

But as Starfleet had been her whole life, perhaps he'd be prepared to try and negotiate all that for her sake?

Perhaps? It was certainly a possibility, but he still couldn't _promise_ that. Not even for her. He couldn't just pretend to be someone else for the sake of expediency. He wasn't ashamed of his decision to leave Starfleet and join the Maquis. He had made it in good faith. He wasn't about to become an apologist for his convictions. Not even for her.

Even in the best-case scenario, would she really want to be connected intimately to someone like him? How could it not affect her career? She was a rising Starfleet star, anyone could see that. And if they did make it back, she would return a hero. But what would the media make of her coming back in the arms of the terrorist and traitor she had been sent to capture? He could already imagine the clichés spilling out of the leader lines on the news vids. Copywriter's field day.

OK – that could be hard, but imagine it all dies down eventually, she handles it all with her considerable diplomatic skill, and her career survives intact...then what? She would want a base on Earth – she missed her mother and sister a great deal. So if he wanted to be with her, they would have to set up on Earth.

Another wall.

Earth.

He had precious few connections on Earth. He didn't know where his remaining family would be by now, but it was very unlikely they'd have chosen Earth. Didn't know if they were still alive. The vast majority of his friends were in the Maquis, and had avoided Earth for years. Earth had always meant Starfleet to him, and he'd already hit the first wall, thinking about trying to fit in there again.

Following her, on this ship, was very different to answering to Starfleet Command. He had nothing but respect for Kathryn's interpretation of Starfleet principles. He'd left the Alpha Quadrant with nothing but contempt for the absence of principle of Starfleet Command.

So, to sum up then…life with a man she's known and possibly loved all her life, no doubt well integrated already into her circle of friends and probably already an honorary member of her family, or a life of uncertainty and difficult readjustment with him?

He knew what was real between them here – they had a strong and (until four days ago) deepening connection. She cared for him and enjoyed his company here; he was sure of that. _Here _though. In this isolated situation, where choices of companion were severely limited.

How that could ever _really_ translate to a life back on Earth if they did actually achieve their goal and get home, he just couldn't see right now.

At the beginning of this journey, he'd belonged fairly and squarely in the camp of those crewmembers, mostly Maquis, who were focused on their life on the ship, in the present, and who were mostly just happy to be alive and free. The goal of getting back to the Alpha Quadrant had little resonance for them. Many of them, himself included, had little to go back to.

As his transition from Rebel Captain back to Starfleet Commander gathered momentum, he could see that it would also be possible now for him to relate to the section of the crew who were firmly focused on getting back to the Alpha Quadrant. Who believed there was a life for them waiting there.

He straddled both camps really. Return could bring the possibility of a new life, of new choices; it could also still bring trial and imprisonment and with that, a new loss of all he was building here.

The more time passed before they made it back, perhaps the chances of this first possible future increased?

So – now he wanted to get back – but just not too _soon_? Was that what he was saying? Not sure that was something he'd be sharing with the Captain.

That night on the holodeck, at one point he'd felt sure as they'd talked and laughed that she'd been about to say she'd take him to the real Lake George if they ever made it back. She had said she thought he'd love it there, then she'd paused as if the next thought had stalled somewhere in formation.

Perhaps she was ahead of him in her thinking? That'd be nothing new. Perhaps that night, as she'd tried to imagine them together on the _real _Lake George, her thoughts had hit the same wall that his thoughts had only just come up against now?

It had all seemed possible in the moonlight on that beautiful lake.

It all seemed ridiculous in the unforgiving light of the mess hall.

Who was he kidding?

The stew was no longer bubbling. He pushed the plate away, no longer hungry.


	8. Chapter 8

The Vulcan breakfast had been surprisingly tasty. Tuvok had been quietly solicitous and she was touched that he had sought out her company; he must have been concerned for her after her recent trauma. She was accustomed to his presence and felt comfortable with the silences they could share as well as the conversation.

He had offered to guide her through a meditation that he suggested would be helpful to her. She couldn't deny that the alien possession had affected her profoundly. She felt as if something inside her had shifted. She knew she needed to feel like herself again in order to return to duty the following day, so she had accepted his offer.

He had explained that after a near-death experience Vulcans practised a specific meditation to reaffirm their connection to the life they had almost lost. The purpose of this meditation, he explained, was to strengthen the bonds with the formative, stabilising forces whose influence had been integral in the development of the person she was, and who anchored her to her life. He had instructed her to select the three individuals who represented these formative, stabilising forces in her life.

The first two had been easy - her father and her mother. Tuvok had confirmed that whether they were still alive or not was irrelevant to this exercise. She was to focus on the gifts these formative individuals had bestowed upon her as she had become the person she now was.

The choice of a third person had caused her a moment's indecision. Her sister being younger meant that despite the influence she'd had on Kathryn in so many ways, she couldn't think of her as a formative force. Mark she had known since she was a child; he had been her friend for most of her life. He was several years her senior and she had always valued and respected his judgment. She had relied on his support and had benefitted from the safe haven he created for her with his calm and contemplative nature. In some ways he possessed a wisdom that reminded her of her father. When she had been at her lowest, following the devastating double loss of her father and her first fiancé, Mark's friendship and support had played a significant role in helping her find her way out of the depression that had gripped her. He had helped persuade her to eventually reclaim her life. So, Mark it was for the third formative force.

She had spent almost two hours with Tuvok.

On the way back to her quarters afterwards she found herself wondering whether the all-too-human practice of denial wasn't actually a lot more use to her in her situation?

The meditation had been too damn Vulcan for her.

She hadn't come away feeling stabilised and reconnected to her life. Certainly not yet anyway. She had actually found the whole meditation exercise to be surprisingly painful.

Spending well over an hour focusing on all she'd learnt from and all she felt for these three dear people had left her with a pervasive sense of melancholy. She had found it impossible afterwards not to consider the possibility that she would never see, touch, embrace, or even speak to her mother or her fiancé ever again, or to her sister for that matter. She'd been unable to suppress the thought that to all intents and purposes all three of her formative forces might now be equally lost to her.

For three years she had intentionally and successfully fought against allowing herself to experience the full depth and breadth of the feelings of desolation that the possibility of permanent separation from her family and her fiancé could evoke in her. She had never allowed herself to feel the expanding darkness that would have moved silently into her soul, had she ever accepted the possibility of them being lost to her for the rest of her life. Whatever mental defences she had possessed that had allowed her to successfully avoid those thoughts for so long seemed to have been swept away by the meditation. Hardly a very Vulcan-like outcome surely?

Later in her Ready Room she'd been drawn to the photo she kept there of Mark. Spent several minutes just sitting, the photo in front of her. Her eyes unfocused; seeing nothing.

She'd gone in search of Chakotay hoping they might have dinner, but she'd met Tom at the turbo lift, and he'd mentioned that he'd just had dinner with Chakotay and B'Elanna, so she had settled for something replicated in her quarters and a long soak in the bathtub. When Chakotay had commed her late evening, she'd been so glad to hear his voice. She'd missed him. Silly really, but she was just used to him being there every day. She'd almost suggested he come over for a night cap despite the lateness of the hour, but she'd been aware of how drained she still felt, and of the need to be back on top of things by the morning.

The night before on the holodeck had been like an evening out of time. It was as if they'd been off the ship somehow, it'd felt like such a break from their usual routine. He had seemed different that evening too, more confident around her. Not that he usually lacked confidence, but that evening they had approached each other very much as equals. Their professional relationship had been discarded along with their uniforms and they'd met as a man and a woman who cared for each other and wanted to spend time together. That was what had been so different about that evening. Perhaps that was why she'd woken the next morning feeling vaguely guilty? Feeling as if she'd been unfaithful. She had reminded herself she hadn't done anything. But then again intent is significant. She'd felt so in tune with him that if Chakotay had pushed her for more intimacy there had been such an ambiguity to her feelings that evening that she didn't know what she would've done. Or rather she suspected she did. Hence the guilt.

So, two days after the ordeal she returned to duty, still a little low, but immersing herself in work took her mind off her concerns as effectively as it always did.

_"More Vulcan meditation? I don't think so; give me a big stack of padds any day."_

She'd been conscious of wanting to catch up with Chakotay, and his offer of brunch the morning after their evening together had been so tempting, for a split second she'd considered turning back and asking Tuvok for a rain check, but she knew that wouldn't have been fair. The day she had returned to duty, she and Chakotay had both been busy with ship's business and he'd moved himself onto beta shift to cover the three days Tuvok usually did on that duty shift, so that Tuvok could oversee the implementation of the new security measures. She'd stayed up much later than she should have, given how exhausted she still felt, with the intention of calling him as he came off duty, but she just hadn't been able stay awake.

The following day they'd both been tied up in meetings and the day after, before his shift began she'd asked the computer to locate him, and had been informed that he was on the holodeck with B'Elanna. She'd felt a little disappointed that he had made a point of organising things so that he would still see B'Elanna, but hadn't tried to make another arrangement to see her. It had seemed odd, given how worried he'd obviously been about her. Only seeing each other once to hand over ship's business at the beginning of his bridge shift on both these days had felt odd, overly formal. It wasn't like him. It was almost starting to feel like the beginning of their trip again, before they'd begun to socialize with each other. Just Captain and Commander all over again. All the more surprising coming on the back of that wonderful evening.

Perhaps he'd sensed she hadn't been herself that night on the lake and he had been fearful of taking advantage of her in that vulnerable state?

She knew he'd understood her unspoken reservations about them getting too close when they'd returned to the ship after New Earth. The silent understanding in those soulful, expressive eyes had left her sure of that much. What she had been less sure of was how he felt about her reservations. Until now, she'd always presumed he didn't necessarily share them. Perhaps now he did? Perhaps he felt now as she had then, that it would be more than they could handle? Perhaps he had sensed that her resolve was wavering, and he'd taken it upon himself to uphold her former position. Ironic really. Were they destined to take turns? Swapping sides from time to time in their gentle tug of war, neither one prepared to completely relinquish their hold on the other's heart strings.

On the third day he'd been on beta shift she'd commed him before she went to bed whilst he was still on bridge duty and they'd arranged to have lunch together the next day. He'd sounded subdued. He'd sounded like she felt actually. Even so, it was still very good to hear his voice last thing before she turned in for the night. She'd looked forward to them being back to normal on the same shift cycle the following day.

This day had started out well. They had detected a source of galacite on an uninhabited planet, maybe even a full kiloton B'Elanna hoped, enough to re-fit the warp coils. Then things had become more complicated. Vorik's transference of the chemical imbalance in his brain chemistry to B'Elanna had brought about an extraordinary sequence of events to say the least.

When Tom had contacted the bridge to report back on the situation that was developing with B'Elanna, the look on Chakotay's face when he'd asked Tom for confirmation of what they'd heard him say had been priceless, 'She bit you?' The look that had then passed between them had made her so glad he'd been back on the bridge to share that moment with her in all its madness.

Before that he'd been rather quiet, but she'd put it down to simple fatigue after changing shift cycle. However, at one point she had wondered whether there was actually something bothering him, as he had seemed withdrawn and distracted as well as monosyllabic. She couldn't help but wonder where the confidence and warmth she'd sensed radiating from him that night on the holodeck had gone. But then again he was probably just keeping things professional whilst they were on duty, and maybe over compensating a bit? She hoped that was all it was. She wanted to see that relaxed and confident side of him again soon. Still waters certainly do run deep, she thought. The man was such a case in point for that cliché.

Then she sent him and Tuvok down to sort out the chaos of an away team she'd initially dispatched.

After a great deal of confusion, a communications blackout, the discovery of inhabitants on this uninhabited planet, and more craziness with Vorik and B'Elanna, things finally resolved themselves.

She had just been feeling more than satisfied with the outcome of the whole bizarre affair. Chakotay had managed to gain the trust of the Sikari and in exchange for his offer to help them improve their camouflage they had agreed to provide Voyager with enough galacite to completely re-fit all the warp coils. It was a real result, much better than she could have hoped for. She was looking forward to lunch with him and having the chance to get things between them back to normal.

Then he'd called her down to the planet surface; didn't say why, but she knew from the tone of his voice that he was worried. Very worried.

"Your call sounded urgent, what have you got, Commander?"

"I think there's something you should see, Captain. We found this as we were clearing away the ruins. Undoubtedly one of the invaders who destroyed this colony."

He pulled back the bushes to reveal the source of his anxiety.

"The Borg."

They looked down at the Borg skeleton in silence. She looked up and stared straight ahead of her. Her mouth went dry and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her, but it was only momentary.

Then she turned to look at him. He held her gaze. She saw reflected back at her the silent understanding of all this could mean.

Then the thoughts flooded back in all of a sudden and she formulated her orders at speed;

"Get it back to the ship - beam it to sickbay, then get the doctor working on it immediately. I want to know everything about it. Try and limit the crew's exposure to it if you can. Though I doubt we'll be able to keep this quiet for long. But I don't want anyone to panic. This could be ancient, they may have abandoned this sector decades ago for all we know"

"Yes, Captain."

She was so grateful he hadn't countered her obvious anxiety with reassuring platitudes. He understood just as well as she did what they were dealing with here. What it could mean for them all.

She'd left him on the surface to supervise and beamed back up to the ship. She went straight to sickbay to hear the doctor's initial report in person. She was so on edge that she had found it hard to focus and actually listen to his first few observations.

As they left orbit and resumed their course for the Alpha Quadrant, she took to her Ready Room. She replicated herself a pot of coffee and focused all her attention on examining the data they had so far on the skeleton and began to postulate all the possible ramifications of this find. Lunch would have to wait.

It turned out to be a very long first day back on duty.


	9. Chapter 9

They rode the turbo lift to sickbay in silence. She stared straight ahead.

She thought back to the last few days. Of all the possible ramifications and scenarios she had postulated, following the discovery of the Borg skeleton on the planet where they'd found the galacite, she had to concede that this was one eventuality she had definitely not foreseen.

That her First Officer would be attacked by one faction of ex-Borg drones living on a lawless planet, and then brainwashed and manipulated by another? No, she hadn't seen this one coming.

She wondered what Chakotay would have to say. How the hell he would explain what he'd just done? It beggared belief. She hoped to God that the Doctor was really sure he'd permanently reversed whatever had been done to him, and that there could be an absolute guarantee that this could never recur. She needed desperately to hear that.

The Doctor had contacted her on the bridge to say that he had finished treating him and was ready to report back. She had intended to go down to sickbay alone, but Tuvok had followed her into the turbo lift. She didn't need to ask why.

In sickbay, the Doctor gave his report; they listened and he answered their questions.

He confirmed that Chakotay had been acting against his will. It had been possible due to a temporary heightening of his telepathic receptivity as a residual effect from the healing link he'd been part of apparently, and would not last.

Thank God.

Chakotay was sitting on the bio bed, legs dangling, in a strangely childlike posture.

She dismissed Tuvok and the Doctor. She could see what it was costing him to sit there with an audience, whilst it had been confirmed to them all that his mind hadn't been his own. He was a man who liked to stay in control; his ability to keep his cool in a crisis was one of his strengths as a leader. But this, this was the antithesis of all that he aspired to.

He could hardly bring himself to look her in the eyes. He looked absolutely wretched. Disgusted with himself.

As soon as they were alone, he offered her a subdued apology. She tried to reassure him but she felt as if her words didn't really register with him.

When he started berating himself for repairing their communications array she stopped him saying,

"Helping others, Chakotay, that's part of who you are, given everything you believe in I don't see how you could've behaved differently," desperate for him to acknowledge that this didn't represent a weakness.

This didn't seem to get through to him either. He was inconsolable. She could see that it would take him time to get past all this. Probably a long time.

As they started towards the door, the Doctor came out of his office, Tuvok close behind.

"Please get some rest now, Commander," the Doctor said.

Then he addressed her,

"He should be fit to return to duty tomorrow morning Captain, but I would like him to wear a cortical monitor, just until his duty shift starts at 07.00 tomorrow so that I can ensure his neuropeptide levels remain stable."

"A wise precaution, Doctor," Tuvok stated, expressionless.

Chakotay looked straight ahead, focusing on a point somewhere on the other side of the room, and said nothing.

Kathryn replied, "Of course, Doctor, I'm sure the Commander will be happy to co-operate if you believe it's really necessary," even as she said it, she cursed her choice of words.

Chakotay looked at her, nodded almost imperceptibly, then dropped his gaze to the floor. She was close enough to hear him inhale slowly. He tensed visibly as the Doctor attached the cortical monitor to the base of his skull.

They made their way out of sickbay together. Tuvok remained behind with the Doctor. Kathryn hoped Chakotay wasn't thinking about what that meant.

They entered the turbo lift in silence. Once inside she turned to face him and said,

"Chakotay, thi_s really _wasn't your fault."

He made eye contact finally,

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

"So you still trust me with your ship?" resignation in his eyes to whatever reply was forthcoming.

"With _our _ship, yes. Yes, of course I do."

"Thank you.' He said holding her gaze.

She put her hand on his forearm and said,

"Get some rest, I'll check in on you later."

"Yes, Captain."

As the turbo lift doors closed behind him, she let out a long sigh. She wished he hadn't used her title – she didn't intend to call on him later as his commanding officer, but as his friend. And he certainly needed a friend right now.

* * *

OOO OOO OOO

* * *

"Come on, Chakotay, remember what I said in sickbay, they saved us from that cube, they let you go, that's got to mean something, don't you think? Let me get you some tea, you stay there, I'll join you, how does that sound?"

"Like you're trying too hard," he replied quietly, looking up at her as she moved towards his replicator.

He was sitting facing towards the viewport, forearms resting on the table in front of him. He'd had several hours alone since being discharged from sickbay. He'd changed out of uniform, and she guessed from his creased t-shirt that he'd been lying down. She doubted he'd slept. He looked like hell.

She placed the tea in front of him and sat down opposite, cradling her coffee.

"Chakotay, are you OK?"

"No, I'm not," he said bluntly.

She thought she could hazard a pretty accurate guess at some of the thoughts that had been tormenting him during the hours he'd been alone here in his quarters.

It'd happened again. He'd been manipulated, intimately manipulated she suspected; used by a woman with a specific agenda. His trusting nature had let him down again. Earlier in sickbay, she had been praying that Tuvok wouldn't decide to take it upon himself to point this out to him, again. Thank God she'd excused them before he'd had the chance.

Looking at Chakotay she wondered whether he'd ever trust a woman again. If life dealt him any more blows like this he was going to start equating intimacy with deception.

Her heart ached for him.

She suddenly felt a strong desire to get up, take both his hands in hers and pull him out of that chair, put her arms around him and crush him to her body in the fiercest embrace she was capable of. Let him take immediate, tangible, physical comfort from her. Then take his face in both her hands and force him to look her in the eyes; find a way to make him believe that he wasn't a fool. Make him see, feel, believe that he was a good man, an intelligent, capable, brave, sensitive man who had just been incredibly unlucky. Twice. Make him believe that not everyone who offered him intimacy had an ulterior motive or a sinister agenda.

Make him see that it wasn't him; he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Twice.

Even as she rehearsed her argument, she knew it didn't sound convincing.

As she sat there watching him look down at the cup in his hands, she found herself considering again another possible explanation for some of this, an explanation that had been taking root in her mind in the last few hours.

Something she wasn't about to share with him in a hurry.

She had been wondering if it were possible that both the women who had manipulated him to serve their own agenda in recent years had actually decided on their specific course of action, precisely _because_ of the man he was.

Kathryn tried to imagine what would've happened if Chell had been in command of that Maquis cell years ago. Would Seska have set her sights on him in the same way? Would her tactic still have been to worm her way into his affections, into his bed? Somehow Kathryn thought that unlikely.

Similarly, had it been Neelix piloting the shuttle that had answered the distress call, would Riley have decided to go about things in the same way?

Kathryn suspected that it was possible, probable even, that both these woman had chosen their very intimate, and hence all the more effective methods of manipulation because the man was trusting, generous and lonely, and happened to be absolutely gorgeous as well. Bet they couldn't believe their luck.

Riley had seen inside his mind, heard his thoughts, felt his feelings, and seen a weakness she could exploit. Felt his loneliness no doubt, felt the full force of his unfulfilled needs.

As well as an opportunity for herself, perhaps she'd have seen him as an opportunity for her collective. During the link, she would have felt the love and passion he was capable of, and seen how his life on board Voyager afforded no channel of release for those powerful emotions. She must have seen his neediness as her surest route to getting further inside his head, for the purpose of reestablishing control more easily after the direct link had been terminated.

Kathryn was under no illusions as to what Riley Fraser was capable of. She believed Riley had done all she could to keep the residual link active, so as to provide her collective with a back-up plan, in case Chakotay's captain didn't agree to their proposal. Having served Starfleet herself, Riley must have had a pretty accurate idea of how unlikely it was that a Starfleet captain would ever agree to re-activate a Borg generator.

Kathryn had sensed almost immediately that there was something more than friendly co-operation going down between him and Riley Fraser when the woman had spent time on the ship, trying to make her case. More had gone on between them down on that planet than just healing; all her instincts had been telling her that.

He'd been stranded down three for three days; she'd had plenty of time to plan exactly how to use him. He had been at his most vulnerable. Riley had taken advantage of him at a point when he had absolutely no defenses, no choices left.

Just thinking about it again was making her furious.

She took a deep breath to get her emotions in check and said,

"This wasn't something we couldn't have predicted or prepared for, Chakotay. Surely you can see that?"

"So, you're telling me that this could've happened to anyone? That if Tuvok had answered their distress call, he would've ended up doing everything that I did?"

She was floored for a split second at how some aspects of his deepest fears mirrored hers of a moment ago. She tried to keep all of that out of her expression as she replied,

"Yes, I am; it could have happened to any one of us."

"I'm not buying it; I even repaired the damn transmitter that made it possible for them to do this to me. I might as well have just told them to leave the transceiver where it was, embedded in my skull." As he said this, his hand went to his neck and he rubbed the skin there.

"I know you don't believe it right now, but I _would've_ done the same; Tuvok would've done the same."

"Maybe." That was clearly as much as he would concede.

They sat in silence, both lost to their thoughts for several minutes. She needed to ask him something, but she wasn't sure how to begin. She looked across at him, and realized he'd been studying her face.

"Why don't you just ask?"

"Ask what?"

"You tell me. Whatever it is that you've been wanting to ask me since sickbay. I can see it in your eyes, Kathryn."

She held his gaze, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She had no idea it'd been that obvious. It wasn't going to be easy, but she had to know. Either she could ask him outright, or she could order the Doctor to allow her access to his medical records and in doing so involve the Doctor in his misery too, as well as breach his doctor-patient confidentiality. She had to choose. She decided it'd be better to keep it between the two of them. She licked her lips nervously, swallowed and then asked,

"Are you up to date with your boosters?"

The colour rushed to his face. Whatever he'd thought she was going to ask, it sure as hell wasn't this. She could see he was rocked by the implications of her question. She realized that until that moment he must have believed that no one had suspected anything had gone on between him and Riley, other than her having organised and been part of the communal link that had first healed, and then controlled him.

She could see that he was absolutely mortified by having to address this, with her of all people. Damn. Perhaps she should've left this to the Doctor after all? Guess this day had just gotten even worse for him. Bet he hadn't thought that were possible.

He took a deep breath and looked down. Slowly he raised his gaze to meet hers and nodded.

Thank God.

At least that was something. She just didn't know how either of them would've coped with another woman reappearing light years down the road home, pregnant, or trailing a small child she claimed was his. Another woman armed with a powerful means of fresh manipulation and conflict.

He hadn't objected to the question or demanded she explain this intrusion into his privacy. That was an answer in itself.

He leaned forward slightly and brought his hands up to his face and pressed his face into them, elbows still resting on the table. Now they both felt worse; but she'd had no option. Ship's security had to come first.

She didn't know how to take the conversation further from that point. She didn't actually want to know anything other than that, and hoped to God he wasn't about to volunteer any details. Knowing him as she did, she thought that was unlikely.

He rubbed his neck, at the base of his skull again. She'd noticed him do it already. The cortical monitor was on the other side of his neck.

"Is the monitor making you uncomfortable?" she asked.

He lifted his head, clasped the mug of tea again and looked up briefly as he answered, then let his gaze drop to the cup in his hands.

"No."

As he didn't seem to be about to offer any further explanation she pressed on,

"Well, what is it then?"

He sighed and finally looked up again to meet her eyes properly.

"The neural transceiver. I can still feel it."

"Was it painful?"

"No, not really. The Doc says there's nothing there."

"But you can still feel it?"

"Yes."

"May I?" she asked as she gestured towards his neck.

He nodded permission and sat up slightly in the chair.

She stood up and moved around the small table to stand behind him. She looked down at the back of his head and his broad shoulders and thought how much she loved him.

Just like that.

She stood completely still for a second as the thought settled.

She still had the presence of mind to know she couldn't just stand there immobile for ever, so pretty much on automatic pilot, she moved her fingers across the side of his neck to the base of his skull to search for the patch of skin that he had irritated with his scratching. She felt the muscles of his neck tense slightly beneath her fingers.

She wondered if her heart could've picked a worse time to reveal this to her? It'd be laughable if it weren't so cruel.

The other night on Lake George would've been a bit more convenient, thank you very much! If only she could've come to the full realization of how her feelings for him had evolved that evening, during that wonderful moment of calm, before they'd entered this region of space and all this chaos had unleashed itself.

What on earth was she supposed to do with this revelation now?

He'd just been manipulated into intimacy that may well have led directly to brainwashing; he couldn't be more wary of anyone initiating anything with him right now, and here she was, wanting nothing more than to pull him into her arms. She wanted to drive any thoughts of this whole miserable situation out of his mind, blasting all that into insignificance with the force of the feelings she had for him right now.

She supposed at least she could be honest with herself now. Part of her discomfort around Riley Fraser had been the result of jealousy. That had been the undercurrent to her feelings about Riley that she hadn't wanted to examine too closely. Now she acknowledged it for what it was.

The woman had been fishing about inside his head. She probably knew more about how he felt about everything, about her, than she did. And whose fault was that?

No, she'd was damned if she was going to let herself make this into something she should feel guilty about too. Chakotay was clearly shouldering enough guilt for the two of them.

Riley had had access to his hopes and fears, to his heart. Kathryn would never know him that intimately, not unless their worst fears were realized and they were all assimilated of course - there was always that…

She was amazed at the working of her own heart. Why on earth had she just had that thought _now_? On the back of probably the most awkward conversation she'd ever had with him!

It made no sense.

Surely she should feel betrayed about what he'd done down there? But she didn't.

Jealous, hell yes, but betrayed? No. He wasn't beholden to her. She had asked for no promises from him. When he'd opened himself up to her on New Earth, she'd sat there and said nothing. Riley must have offered him what she had withheld, and he'd responded. That didn't make him anything other than human.

She shook herself mentally as she gently touched the irritated skin on one side of his neck where the transceiver had been. She circled it with her fingertips, hoping it would have a soothing effect. His skin was warm, very warm to the touch. She so desperately wanted to make him feel better. To somehow make him feel right now, everything she felt for him but couldn't express, make him feel it through her hands, now when he needed it.

She rested her other hand on the other side of his neck below the cortical monitor, and continued to make slightly larger circles with her fingers, radiating out from the irritated skin, pressing into his neck muscles and up into his scalp in a firm, massaging movement.

As she increased the pressure of her touch, he let out a barely audible groan, and his head fell slowly back to rest against her body. As he did so, she moved the fingers of both hands up into his hair at the back of his head, to massage his scalp. Weaving her fingers into his thick hair she applied enough pressure to firmly massage the contours of his skull. Eventually she felt her way to his jaw muscles and worked her fingers rhythmically over the muscles with synchronous motions on either side of his face.

She needed desperately to make him feel that she still trusted him. That she trusted him now, with herself. She couldn't bear to think that he believed he'd let her down again. She wanted him to know that she had faith in him; that he would get past this. Make him remember that intimacy didn't have to be inextricably linked to manipulation. That he could hold someone's interest and affections in his own right.

What her feelings for Mark and her engagement to him still meant to her she would need to reflect on later. Since the meditation Tuvok had guided her through she had been feeling that the Alpha Quadrant was further away than ever, despite the fact they were now three years closer to home. The feelings she was developing for this man here, in front of her now were real, immediate and powerful. Were she ever to give free reign to them, she suspected they would be more real and more powerful than anything she had ever felt for anyone. This was her life now, here, and he was located squarely in the middle of it, significant to her in every way.

She was well aware life out here was having an impact on both of them. They had both moved on already from the people they'd been when they'd been stranded here and forced together.

The toll this crazy quadrant had exacted on him so far did seem disproportionally high, but his role meant he was always going to be first in the line of fire; it was unavoidable. The implications of that for her, now she had begun to acknowledge how much she felt and suspected she could feel for him, were not something she was ready to even try and think about yet either.

She knew that recently she had been aware of some of these subtle changes in herself almost as they were taking place. She was questioning things she wouldn't have questioned before. Accepting other things she might have not have accepted.

She just hoped that life here didn't stretch their faith in each other to breaking point, as this connection she could feel with him was still in its infancy in many ways, and would need nourishment if it were to survive.

As she continued to massage his scalp, moving her fingers to his temples, and pressing firmly into the soft tissue, she felt him lean back more and relax into her touch a little more.

"You have healing hands, Kathryn," he said, his voice low.

"I hope so," she replied, and smiled.

She offered a silent prayer that they would find a way to feed this connection between them, despite all the obstacles in their lives here. And that one day it would be possible to allow these feelings the focus they deserved. That there would be a time for that.


	10. Chapter 10

"Come on, Chakotay, remember what I said in sickbay, they saved us from that cube, they let you go, that's got to mean something, don't you think? Let me get you some tea, you stay there, I'll join you, how does that sound?"

"Like you're trying too hard," he replied quietly, looking up at her forced smile, as she moved towards his replicator.

He felt bad immediately. He hadn't intended to snub her, but it was just so transparent. She was obviously still worried about him. He'd done nothing but be a source of worry to her lately. So much for making her burdens lighter.

When they'd left the planet where they'd found the Borg skeleton, they'd entered the desolate Necrit Expanse and there'd been nothing to do for days. The crew had been getting restless and bored, but he and Kathryn had finally spent some time together, shared a couple of meals. He'd been tentatively working back towards feeling more confident and relaxed around her, after the confusion he'd felt in the wake of the wonderful evening spent on Lake George and her sudden avoidance of him immediately afterwards.

She'd sent him and Ensign Caplan to scout for a faster route through the Necrit Expanse, and then she'd had to deal with all this.

He felt wretched. He had let her down again.

He couldn't stand knowing he was responsible for all that worry in her face, he could see it there now in her eyes. And now, now she was worried that she wouldn't be able to rely on him anymore. He could understand that. He was worried too.

He also knew now that she'd been on edge for three days before she'd even found him on that planet. At the beginning of what had turned into a nightmare shuttle ride, B'Elanna had told him that the minute they'd located the Borg cube, Kathryn had decided to change course so they could rendezvous early with his shuttle. B'Elanna had said she'd been visibly stressed in the staff briefing and was clearly missing his support, his counsel.

And what had he done? Gone and got himself damn near assimilated, that's what. Great. And trashed another shuttle.

She put the tea down on the table and sat across from him, slender hands gripping the coffee cup. He looked at her. He didn't have much option; there was nowhere to hide here. Which was why she'd come, wasn't it? He'd have to tell her anything she wanted to know now. They both knew he was hopeless at hiding anything from her – or from anyone else for that matter it seemed.

_Bloody open book._

"Chakotay, are you OK?"

"No, I'm not," he said, because he wasn't.

She looked kind of thrown, like she didn't know what to say. He felt bad again. He hadn't intended it to come out the way it had, he was actually glad she was here.

He wondered how long it'd be before she and Tuvok re-instated his command codes. He was pretty sure Tuvok hadn't been in sickbay for moral support. Guess it'd depend on the data the cortical monitor provided by 07.00. He decided not to ask her; he couldn't actually face acknowledging all that to her. Easier to pretend he hadn't realized.

It was probably just another 'wise precaution' anyway. He might well have done the same in her position. Let's face it, he was a goddamn liability.

He didn't want to take the risk that he might wake up and find himself on the bridge in his pajamas, toting a phaser rifle and piloting Voyager back to that hell planet any more than they did. He should probably ask her to lock him in when she left.

For once, he wouldn't actually mind being declared unfit for duty, just to have another day to get himself together before he had to face anyone but her. Bet even Grandfather, crazy old man that he was, couldn't hear the voices of a whole damn collective. Worst thing about it was that he could remember it all. Everything. Every word he'd said. Everything he'd done. He'd shot B'Elanna. B'Elanna of all people. It beggared belief.

She finally spoke, to try and reassure him that it could've happened to anyone, it wasn't anything to do with him. He listened, but she was asking a lot if she thought he could believe that right now, so he said so.

He watched her as she sat there, looking increasingly uncomfortable. There was something going on with her. He'd noticed it earlier in sickbay - like she'd wanted to ask something, but had stopped short. He figured they might as well get it over with, whatever it was. Perhaps she was actually going to suggest he step down as First Officer for a few days? Just until they were sure he was completely in control again – and wasn't going to steal a shuttle and run off and reactivate a few more cubes.

So he bit the bullet.

"Why don't you just ask?"

"Ask what?"

"You tell me. Whatever it is that you've been wanting to ask me since sickbay. I can see it in your eyes, Kathryn."

She paused for a few seconds, then it came.

"Are you up to date with your boosters?"

He felt the colour rush to his face. Tried to school his features into a semblance of normality, and failed. He thought he'd been ready for anything, but he had underestimated her. He wasn't ready for that.

He took a deep breath and looked down. Eventually he raised his gaze to meet hers and nodded the confirmation she was after.

It was hard to believe he could sink any lower in her estimation, but apparently he could. He'd had no idea anyone knew about what had happened between him and Riley. Had no idea how she could possibly have found out; guess that didn't matter now anyway.

He prayed that at least she wouldn't ask him about it. He didn't think he had it in him right now to talk about it to her. To anyone. Not even to his spirit guide. He would need time – a lot of time – to come to terms with how he'd let that happen. He still hadn't made any sense of it. Whatever the truth was about the premeditation or the timing of Riley's decision to use him, he doubted whether there would ever be anything he could salvage from that experience.

Kathryn's voice brought him back to the present. She asked if the cortical monitor was making him uncomfortable, and he realized he'd been scratching at the place where the transceiver had been, as he still had such a strong sense memory in the skin there. It had been bugging him for hours. He knew the Doctor was right and there was nothing there but his nervous system was still all over the place and it had other ideas.

He tried to explain and she asked to see.

As she got up and moved around behind him, he made a conscious effort to try and relax the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.

She paused for a second or two behind him, and he wondered if she was reluctant to touch him now, had thought better of it perhaps? Didn't want to blur any boundaries that she needed to keep clear between them. Especially now, when she knew people had been messing around inside his head. But the moment passed and he felt her cool fingers brush against his skin. It was the lightest of touches, tentatively skimming across the skin where the transceiver had been. How she knew the exact spot he didn't know; guess his scratching must have left a mark.

She rubbed the area gently with her fingers in tiny circular movements, then he felt her other hand come up and rest on the other side of his neck below the cortical monitor.

The fingers of the hand that had been soothing his irritated skin moved to make slightly larger circles, pressing into his neck muscles and into his scalp in a delicious massaging movement. Her delicate fingers moved with confidence and were surprisingly strong; she knew how to apply exactly the right amount of pressure. The nerves all over his scalp tingled and he focused on the slow, rhythmical movements she was making. She couldn't possibly realize how good this felt for him.

Ever since he'd come round in sickbay he'd had a splitting headache. The analgesic the Doctor had given him earlier had barely touched it. He hadn't mentioned this to the Doctor, as he wanted to live with the ache in his head until it faded on its own. He wanted to know when he was back to normal, without any pharmaceuticals in his blood stream masking from him what was really going on in his body.

Her simple touch was doing so much more to relieve the ache in his head than any drugs could have done. As she stimulated the nerves in his scalp, it sent waves of electricity down his neck, across his shoulders and down into the nerves and muscles in his back.

As she increased the pressure slightly again, it felt so good that he let out a low, involuntary groan. Felt like heaven. All he could think was that he didn't want her to stop, not ever actually. This was exactly what he needed. He closed his eyes and leant his head back gently against her body. She was using both hands now, and her fingers were exploring and pressing into all the uneven dips and planes of his scalp, weaving through his hair, keeping his nerves alight.

Nothing else existed for him other than the touch of her healing hands. He felt so absurdly grateful to her. Grateful for her care right now. He didn't have the words to tell her. Hoped she knew. He felt like she was letting him know she still trusted him and it meant everything to him in that moment.

He leant back a little further against her and relaxed into her touch a little more, and finally felt some of the tension start to leave his body.

"You have healing hands, Kathryn." he managed to get out.

"I hope so," came the husky response. He loved that voice. He could hear the smile in it.

Despite how drained and exhausted he had been feeling before she'd started this, he could feel that if she carried on much longer she was going to get a different kind of a reaction from him than she was aiming for. His nervous system was still in some kind of weird overdrive and he hadn't yet regained the level of control he would normally have had.

He had no illusions as to her intentions here. She was offering comfort and support. His body told him otherwise and he didn't try to fight it. He didn't think he could've done even if he'd wanted to, so he let it all wash over him. He'd always suspected that if she ever touched him in a prolonged or intimate fashion, and this felt very intimate, his head in her hands, his very thoughts taking shape just beneath her fingers, she would arouse every part of him that could be aroused. His body was just responding as he'd always known it would. The fact that this wasn't her intention didn't negate the effect her touch had on him. It didn't matter anyway. It wasn't like he was about to act on any of it and pounce on her. Even if he had been convinced that she was intending her touch to be sensual and erotic rather than therapeutic, at that precise moment he had been left with so little faith in his own judgment that he wouldn't have trusted his own conviction.

One thing was for sure, however he felt about her, there was no way she was going to want to add her name to the list if his recent bedfellows; Ex-Cardassian, Ex-Borg, he really knew how to pick them. Wonder where he'd find himself next? Wake up in bed with some Delta Quadrant nightmare alien with six legs and a tail probably.

_Damn it man, stop wallowing. Let it go. _

Her touch was working as the perfect antidote. It was already driving out the memory of other fingers on his skin.

Quite some time later, she finally stopped the heavenly massage; she smoothed one hand in one long continuous movement from his hairline over the back of his head and then round to press her hand to his cheek. She rested her hand there for a moment and then patted his cheek as she told him he should turn in for the night. Then she moved round to stand beside him.

Still seated, he slowly pushed himself back from the table and turned the chair slightly so he could face her where she stood. He looked up at her and he felt the urge to reach out and lift her onto his lap to straddle him, connect with those precious lips, kiss her long, hard, thoroughly and communicate everything he felt for her, everything he hadn't said, everything he couldn't say, everything he'd kept in check for months. Run his hands up and down her body and press her to him and keep her there. All that, and more.

She held his gaze for a few moments and he finally succeeded in suppressing those thoughts and the responses that accompanied them. He wondered if she had any idea how much her coming here tonight meant to him. He doubted it.

Eventually, he stood up slowly.

"Thank you, Kathryn," he offered.

She looked up into his eyes and smiled again. He felt like she was his whole world right now; he didn't care about anyone's opinion of him half as much as he did hers. The Vulcan be damned. He could block his command codes for a week for all he cared at that moment, as long as she forgave him.

He reached for her, gently pulled her to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders, enveloping her slight frame. He kissed the top of her head and then buried his face in her hair. Her beautiful hair. The feel of it, the smell of it eradicating the memory of other, too blonde, synthetic strands. He felt her arms come around his torso and she returned the embrace with almost equal force. He felt her cheek press against the skin just above his collarbone, which the loose t-shirt left exposed.

As the moment stretched on he felt a contentment seeping into his soul, the like of which he hadn't felt since lying by her side in that little boat. Finally he felt her pull back and he released her reluctantly.

"You should go to bed now, I need you back on the bridge tomorrow, fully rested."

He smiled down at her; the first time he'd smiled all day.

"Aye aye, Captain."

"Sleep well, Chakotay."

He took her hand and squeezed it gently just before he finally let go of her completely.

He had felt the connection between them again, still vibrant and alive, and hoped that this meant she had forgiven him, or would forgive him, for all of it – the whole goddamn mess. He needed her to do that. Maybe then he could work on forgiving himself.

He swore to himself that he would never allow anything like this to happen again. The next time a stranger showed a sudden interest in him, there was no way he would be taken in. He would be alert to the possibility of a hidden agenda. He wouldn't be the one who nearly cost them everything again.

He would do better. She would help him.


End file.
